Physical Attraction
by chibiaries
Summary: She had loved him. That was an indisputable fact.
1. Eyes

Disclaimer: I don't own anything…except the plot to this story. If anyone steals it I will come after you with an acetylene torch…

It was his eyes. Black, like obsidian, dark and brooding. Black, like polished river stones, emanating waves of melancholy. They were piercing eyes, sharp and arrogant, radiating superb intellect, the eyes of a predator. His gaze was hypnotic, mysterious, and unreachable. A wall was ever present in his eyes, lending to him hardness in his look, an aura of festering anger surrounding him like a heavy fog.

But in the presence of Team Seven, the wall would lift for a few seconds, and his glance softened from grudging tolerance to something else—not happiness exactly, but perhaps contentment. But in a flash, his brow would furrow, his eyes would darken, like the skies before a thunderstorm, and he would once again glare murderously out at the world. His eyes were as black as a starless night—unless he was in a rage. Then his eyes would flash to a deep crimson, like two burning coals of hatred, as his Sharigan activated.

Only two people in the world could ever calm the frightening scarlet of his eyes back to the usual onyx. Kakashi sensei was one. And for unknown reasons, Sakura was the other.

She had fallen for him, notwithstanding the fact that any glances he threw towards her ranged from disgust to indifference. The only acknowledgement of her existence that he ever gave was a flickered glance and a terse nod to indicate her presence. Yet, she still loved him.

Strange, she thought. Time had not changed him. He was still as expressionless and remote as he always was. But as their eyes locked, black meeting green, her breath caught and she stood, frozen in place, as if some magnetic force kept her rooted to the ground.

Once again she was mesmerized, falling into two deep, dark pools that shimmered with light on the surface.

She was drowning in his eyes.


	2. Hair

Disclaimer: Nope. I still don't own Naruto.

Naruto: I want a story tooo! Where's my story?

Me: You're not interesting enough…

Naruto: ….QQ

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It was an undisputed fact: out of all the Chunin in Kohona, Sasuke Uchiha had the best hair. Oh sure, some people came close, like Neji (all the girls sighed in envy of his long, lustrous locks), but Sasuke's hair surpassed them all.

In the front, silky strands of hair shadowed his forehead, like gentle strokes of a calligraphy brush.

The back of his hair was always wild though, giving him an air of recklessness, a hint of a rebel, the kind of guy who broke all the rules and made his own.

Sakura remembered. She recalled the texture of it, smooth like water, his bangs slipping through her slim fingers as clamped his jaw tight to prevent the screams of pain as the curse mark burned. She remembered his hair spilling over her lap, sweat dripping from his forehead as she stroked his head, feeling helpless in the knowledge this was all the comfort she could give him.

Whenever this memory arose, she always felt oddly grateful; under normal circumstances, Sasuke would have never allowed such close contact. But the curse mark that drew them closer than she ever thought possible wrenched them apart when weeks later, Sasuke left the village, pulverizing her heart into tiny shards.

And as he stood there on the cliff before them, stock-still, his hair ruffled by a soft breeze, she wondered with some anxiety what thoughts ran through his eyes behind the dark curtain of his bangs.


	3. Voice

Disclaimer: Still do not own.

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"You're annoying."

That was one of the first few sentences he had ever spoken to her. It didn't crush her spirit, in spite of the mocking tone, the irritation behind the words—she knew she was the weak one, the member of Team Seven who required the most protection.

He spoke rarely to Sakura-if at all-but she loved the sound of his voice, the words out of his mouth that acknowledged her existence as a teammate. His voice was quiet, with a certain air of command, but it gave nothing away, betrayed nothing of his feelings—very much like his face.

But over the times spent on missions and training and exams, she had grown used to deciphering his words, their meanings-his brooding silences and ambiguous "hns". She treasured the moments he had talked to her, storing them up in her memory, the same way a child would keep all her favorite dolls locked up in a toy chest at night.

_"Sakura, shut up about this mark…"_

His tone was insistent, with an undercurrent of annoyance.

_"Sakura…who did this to you?"_

His voice was soft, but dangerous, almost shaking with murderous intent.

And their last conversation reverberated in her head, haunting her dreams.

_"But Sasuke-kun!...Revenge won't make any one happy…and I love you!"_

_"I know…"_ The words trailed off, his voice flat and colder than ice.

And his last words…

_"Arigatou Sakura…"_

The words were melodious and slightly tinged with something resembling-regret, perhaps? He had thanked her, but for what? What had she meant to him?

And now after all these years training, pushing herself to become stronger, she heard it again….

"Sakura, isn't it?"

That voice…the voice that she had longed to hear, so badly it hurt, like a dull ache. He had a deeper timbre now, and the words held a note of curiosity and slight disbelief, as if he couldn't believe that she was here. Her mind reeled with shock, that he still remembered, that he actually remembered her name.

And from her lips, in a half-whisper, like a prayer, a single word fell,

"Sasuke-kun…"


	4. In his Arms

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. If I did Gaara and Neji would show up more. And my favorite ships.

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Her heart sank into despair. The meeting with Sasori's spy had gone catastrophically wrong in a few mere minutes; the worst part, she reflected was that she partly felt responsible for leading the team here, putting on of them in danger: Yamato, Naruto , even Sai. All of this trouble, because she simply wanted Sasuke back.

She felt the briefest flash of pain as her head connected with planks of the bridge, felt her mind slip into unconsciousness…then darkness. She sensed the tug of gravity on her body as she fell off the bridge, plummeting towards the river below. The cold wind whipped through her hair, stroked her face, as she continued hurtling down to a certain death.

While she fell, Sakura dreamed…the ghosts of memories flitting about her mind like caged birds, whispers of the past. Why was she falling? She struggled to remember…there was something important she had to do…Sasuke. He would have caught her. During the Chunin Exams he had saved her from an early death on more than one occasion.

Once she had fainted on a mission (vaguely she thought it might have involved a half- crazed Gaara) and plunged down from a rather high tree branch. She recalled the scent of the forest's greenery, the thin branches whipping her face, and the quicksilver thought (We're too young to die!-Inner Sakura) that darted into her mind.

Curiously, she suddenly realized that she had stopped falling. Instead, she had the even more curious sensation of being carried. Someone-she muddily thought- was carrying her, a fact that she felt slightly discomfited by. She must have made an attempt to wriggle out of those arms but the person-whoever he was-simply held her even tighter. In spite of the fact that a mystery person was carrying her off to who-knows-where, she subconsciously felt safe; for reasons indiscernible to her consciousness, she simply trusted whoever had caught her from her long fall. Sakura felt herself being gently laid down on rough wood. Only later did she learn that it was Sasuke who had caught her in his arms.

He had saved her life again when they were on a mission and ran into an ambush. She was frozen with fear, with the knowledge that she and Sasuke would have to depend on themselves to get out of this mess, and if they failed, they would be greeted with instant death. Sakura realized she couldn't seem to move, that her limbs were numb with paralyzing panic. It was then that he stabbed a kunai into his own thigh, crimson blood gushing out of his wound. He then ran, picking her up in his arms, and dashed for cover as seconds later, several kunai were glinting in the spot that Sakura was trembling in mere moments ago.

Months later, on a moonlit night suitable for a lovers' rendezvous, he had cradled her for the last time, after she had felt that sharp blow from behind that caused her to fall into his arms, and he once again laid her down with a gentleness he never never exhibited in public. And he walked away, leaving her behind.

This time, Sakura realized, Sasuke couldn't catch her, couldn't save her like he always had. And now—she realized with a jolt of shock—now she could only depend on herself.


	5. hug me and never let me go

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. And the manga really should end sometimes soon. I hope.

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-_And This is How it Ends_-

Sasuke was dead.

That fact hits Sakura with all the force of a blunt hammer. She doesn't remember how long she spent kneeling by his body; she ignores the numbness in her legs, the chilly rain dripping down her face.

Naruto was the one who killed him. She had expected it. Sasuke could only be saved or damned, dragged back home in chains, or a body bag. Naruto had passed out almost immediately after the battle, staying conscious enough to mumble a few words to the healers rushing him to the makeshift hospital in the ruins of the village.

_Tell Sakura…I'm sorry. I couldn't keep my promise._

Sasuke looked almost peaceful, she decided. No longer brooding, no longer surrounded by dark anger combined with irritated boredom. His eyes were closed, his brows no longer furrowed with impatience or annoyance or deeply-hidden _angerrageresentment_.

He really looked like he was just sleeping, if it were not for the red puddles bleeding pink from his arms and legs and chest. Perhaps if she cried hard enough, he would feel her tears on his face and wake up, just as he did once when they were Genin, from the very brink of death. He would wake up, and she would smile, and Naruto would laugh loudly with relief, and they could all be together again, as Team Seven.

Eventually, through her tears, Sakura noticed the presence of another at her side.

"Don't cry so much, Ugly. It makes your face even more disgusting to look at." Sai's words stung. At any other time, she would have answered with a cutting retort or a fist to his face.

She glanced once at him, briefly. His face was mildly bruised and there was a small cut bleeding on his right cheek. Despite his normal stoicism, his usual (fake) smile was absent and his expression was strained; dark circles stood out under his eyes, contrasting with his pale skin.

For a brief instant, Sakura almost wished that Sasuke was the one standing next to her, and not Sai. In the next moment, guilt bubbled up her throat as she noticed his right hand, the one holding the ink-woven umbrella, shook slightly. He must have been as exhausted as she was.

"Thank you," she murmured; Sai nodded once, jerkily, although her words barely floated above the insistent drumming of raindrops around them.

Absent-mindedly, Sakura's hand rested on the curve of Sasuke's cheek, feeling the warmth fading from his body, fleeing from her fingertips. Rainwater and tears alike mingled and splattered over his face, seeping into the mud beneath.

For the next several minutes, Sakura allowed herself to cry her eyes out over Sasuke, for what was, and what-could-have-been.

Sai watched her disinterestedly, unwavering from his post by her side.

Silently, they waited for the rain to stop.

_End._

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A/N: Wow. I finally finished this set of one-shots, after procrastinating for three years. That's...pretty bad.

I went back and reread some of my old stories, and felt like editing and reposting this one. If RL will permit, I may write some more about Sasuke and Sakura. Please R x R, and thanks to everyone who has ever faved or reviewed this story.


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